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Vol’jin was dreaming again.
With a sigh, Tyrathan curled into a ball beneath the blankets to drown out the slurred muttering of the troll beside him. It worked, if only for a moment, and the human had nearly drifted into the warm cocoon of slumber before a heavy blue arm flopped across his face.
“Grrrraahhhhh…” Tyrathan roughly pushed the arm away, cursing his terrible luck. After an influx of new arrivals at the temple, every available room and bed was taken. Vol’jin, the renowned supergenius, had selflessly given up his own space and proclaimed that he could find other arrangements—which would have been perfectly fine had he consulted all parties involved in said “arrangements.”
Tyrathan couldn’t even be sure what had convinced him to allow this; the knowledge that Vol’jin would have attempted to sleep outside in the snow had he declined? The knowledge that the troll was strong enough to pick him up and squeeze into bed regardless? The knowledge that he was warm, smelled vaguely of coconuts, and was surprisingly huggable for a ruthless warrior and tribal chieftain? Wait… scratch that last one.
As the poor, beleaguered hunter fought for a precious hour of shut-eye, Vol’jin’s muttering grew louder, before it abruptly stopped. Tyrathan lay perfectly still, listening, before he turned his head gingerly to face his roommate. Sure enough, the troll had finally stilled; his painted brow was furrowed by some unconscious thought, but his face was otherwise placid, and his breathing even and calm. Tyrathan let out a sigh, feeling a rush of relief (and something else) in his chest. He turned away and closed his eyes.
Hardly a minute later, he felt blinding pain as a callused foot kicked him squarely in the back. With a yelp of alarm, he rolled off the bed onto the freezing stone floor, yanking the covers down with him. Tyrathan groaned and rolled into a less uncomfortable position, unable to stand due to exhaustion and his aching ribcage. Still, from his vantage point, he could watch as Vol’jin flailed and kicked, drawing ever closer to the edge of… oh. Ohhhhhhh no.
Helpless, Tyrathan cried out again as three hundred pounds of muscled blue flesh toppled over, crushing him and causing him to see stars.
Vol’jin jolted awake upon impact, his chest heaving. “I’LL FIGHT YA, HEAR ME? DON’ TOUCH ME, YA SON OF A— “
Tyrathan did the only thing he knew would work. He seized the troll’s tusk, wrenching his face down and forcing him to make eye contact. Gradually, Vol’jin’s panting eased. The look in his orange eyes morphed from crazed terror to dull confusion. “Tyrathan,” he said, his voice shaky.
The human nodded, acutely aware of the enormous tusks that had barely missed his face on the way down. “Are you alright?”
Vol’jin’s eyes grew clouded and distant once more. “Yes,” he answered, after a pause.
“Well, then, uh…”
The troll stared at him, then clambered off his chest, looking very much like a giant, humiliated blue kitten. “Sorry ‘bout that... nothing broken?”
Tyrathan shook his head. He tried to chuckle companionably, but only managed a short, sharp wheeze. Vol’jin helped him, unsteadily, to his feet, and they sat silently on the unmade bed.
“What were you dreaming about?” Tyrathan asked once he’d regained his breath.
Sighing, Vol’jin shifted uncomfortably. “The future,” he replied. “Though I be unsure if it was a true vision or just my own fears.”
Tyrathan scooted closer, worried, and wrapped one arm around the troll’s waist. “Could you tell me more?”
“Demons. That be the first thing I saw.” Vol’jin leaned over and lifted the strewn blankets back onto the bed. “And then, Sylvanas was at the head of the Horde’s armies— “
“Light forbid,” Tyrathan burst out. Vol’jin’s lips curled in a rueful smile.
“We were battlin’ the Legion. We were triumphant. And then…” His eyes drifted away again. Tyrathan leaned in, concerned and curious.
“Darkness. Darkness everywhere.”
Something in Vol’jin’s voice suggested that he was keeping a lot hidden, but Tyrathan knew he would be unwilling to divulge the rest. Though the troll’s face was calm, the fine fur on his arms and the back of his neck was standing up, as if the mere thought of whatever he saw would keep him awake with dread.
Tenderly, Tyrathan smoothed Vol’jin’s fur down, marveling at its softness, and the contrast of the scarred, firm skin below. “Shadow hunter things.”
“Yes. But these… things won’t be carin’ who is or isn’t a troll, or a chieftain, or even Horde or Alliance.”
They pondered the words in silence. Tyrathan looked out the window, where the temple grounds were pale and spotless, covered in sheets of snow that glimmered below the stars. “We ought to get to sleep. I was hoping we could wake early to hunt tomorrow.”
Vol’jin nodded at this, his pensive gaze softening at the prospect. “Come, then,” he murmured as he leaned back and pulled the blanket to his chin. “Rest.”
“Will you be alright?” Tyrathan asked softly.
The shadow hunter made a dismissive noise, halfway between a scoff and a sigh.
Smiling, Tyrathan lay next to him. “Can you promise not to kick me again, at least?”
Vol’jin flashed a devilish—well, trollish—grin. “Can’t be promisin’… but I can try to prevent it.” With that, he rolled onto his side and pulled Tyrathan flush against him. The human felt his breath hitch, because Vol’jin was just so warm, and his arms so thick, so smooth…
“Th-this won’t work either! What if you squeeze me to death, or impale me with your… your…”
“Tusks?” Vol’jin suggested helpfully.
“Yes! They’re huge. They could kill me.” Tyrathan’s face grew uncomfortably warm.
“Not if I be layin’ like this,” the troll said. Slowly, almost tenderly, he nuzzled his face into the nape of Tyrathan’s neck, so that his tusks slid above and beneath either side of his face. Tyrathan froze at the feeling of warm breath against that vulnerable, sensitive spot. His face, by this point, was bright pink; he was direly grateful that Vol’jin could not see it.
“Will this be workin’?” Vol’jin purred softly. Tyrathan opened his mouth, as if to speak, then merely nodded. The troll chuckled slightly and went silent.
Minutes passed. Tyrathan’s breathing began to slow, slipping into the gentle cycle brought about by warmth and tiredness. But the arms around him remained firm, and as the rough fingers drew absentminded patterns on his thin nightshirt just above his heart, Tyrathan wondered. Does he…
“Vol’jin?” he whispered. The pillow rustled behind him. Vol’jin was listening.
“Since we’re doing this, I need to tell you that…” Tyrathan faltered, his mind swirling with possibilities. He might have made a wrong guess, and while it wouldn’t mean death in the literal sense, the risk was simply too much. Killing was so much simpler than this, whatever it was, where he couldn’t measure what a fluctuation in another’s heartbeat truly meant…
“Yes, Tyra?”
Oh, the voice was so soft, so gentle, so thick with something akin to anticipation. He’d even used a nickname Tyrathan hadn’t heard from anyone since his estranged wife. It was almost enough to push him to take that final step, that leap, that shot in the dark.
“I trust you, Vol’jin. And… I want you to be able to trust me.”
He hadn’t said it. But by the warm, rumbling chuckle Vol’jin gave, Tyrathan knew the troll understood his words well enough.
“I be trustin’ you too, Tyrathan. Now, go to sleep.”